


Shatter Me

by Epoxide (MiyuTanemura)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bed-warming, M/M, dark!Aragorn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 10:34:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4134279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiyuTanemura/pseuds/Epoxide
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a terrible situation, Legolas thought as he sat despondently on the plush bed.<br/>How could everything have turned so badly?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shatter Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/gifts), [pt_tucker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pt_tucker/gifts).



> I was given a prompt by Yeaka: "write me dark!aragorn with begrudging bedwarmer legolas!"   
> And then this was the result... which... didn't exactly go where it was supposed to.   
> Anyway, this story comes following Yeaka and PT_Tucker's series of bed-warming fics. I was invited to contribute and this is the result. I'm so sorry!  
> This story is unbetaed. And feedback's always nice. ^^

It was a terrible situation, Legolas thought as he sat despondently on the plush bed.

How could everything have turned so badly?

Through several unknown ways, the One Ring had landed on Aragorn’s hands. And this time – contrary to what had happened in the earlier days of the fellowship – Aragorn hadn’t been able to say _no_ to it and its whispered promises.

And so the three of them had ended in Minas Tirith.

Legolas feared what might have been the hobbits’ fate. He really didn’t want to think about that.

He did wonder, however, about Gimli’s fate. The dwarf and their friendship had had a shaky start but Legolas had talked to the dwarf, tried not to have his preconceptions blinding him.

Aragorn had motivated them to.

There was such a difference between _that_ Aragorn and the current one.

Now, the ranger didn’t smile anymore. His eyes bore coldly into everything and everyone – he was a completely new person. There was a darkness surrounding him, tainting the air around him. And that made Legolas shudder.

It was with a sigh that the elf let his arms fall on his lap, looking down at them hopelessly. He laced his fingers, then unlaced them. He was restless and the fact that he was locked inside a room – a room made of stone- with only the bare commodities and a small window, wasn’t helping.

It was a stifling feeling for Legolas. To be locked among stone walls, away from the smallest bit of nature. Choked by the heavy collar that had been placed on his neck.

He was leashed to the bed, a leash made of the sturdy elven ropes was attached to a heavy iron ring that sprouted from the headboard, the darkness of the iron clashing in an ugly way with the elaborated carvings in white wood. He only had some leeway to go to the window and three steps beyond the foot of the bed. The door was still a few steps ahead but he couldn’t quite reach it.

 Pulling at the leash and trying to see if the collar gave a little, Legolas stood and walked to the window. Darkness had descended upon Minas Tirith and little flickers of light were being lit beneath, in the citadel. Legolas tugged on the rough fabric of the makeshift nightgown that was now his only garment.

A grimace settled on his features. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to explain this to his Father. He wasn’t too happy about him, as of late, and knowing of this turn of events would only bring more shame to him.

If they happened to survive the Darkness that was about to crash upon them.

Of course that he could never explain his reasons to his Father. How could he explain it to one who had closed off his heart, who had warded his heart with ice so as not to let his façade crumble but then that façade had become his whole being? How could he explain how his feelings of friendship and love were what kept him locked in place?

His sensitive earing picked the faint sound of steps, a cadence he knew too well. Aragorn was coming back. But it was too early. Legolas frowned and walked to the bed, confusion darkening his spirit.

He sat on the bed, fingers brushing against the fine thread on the coverlet. He looked down, noticing the embroidered pattern, trees were entwined in silver thread framed the dark blue fabric while Gondor’s tree stood in the middle, almost as if shinning. Some of his hair fell over his shoulder and on top of the cover. The pale blond was in stark contrast, noticeable even in the dim lighting.

The door opened and Legolas held his breath.

Aragorn entered the room and it felt as if the air in the room became colder, Legolas was sure that he could see his breath misting the air.

The Man wore his usual leathers only now there was a dash of gold peeking from a chain on his chest. He closed the door and went to stand in front of the elf. He ran his hand through Legolas’ hair, brushing against the elf’s shoulder as it went down.

“Had to come here and see you before dinner.” He offered in guise of explanation. “I hear that there’s going to be a celebration again tonight…” was added as an afterthought.

“I see.” Legolas said in a monotone.

Aragorn grasped Legolas’ chin and jerked it upwards, so that he was looking at him. Legolas felt the grey eyes appraising him but they seemed strange, a golden light seemed to flicker in them for the smallest of instants before a strange hunger clouded them.

“Dinner will be starting soon,” Aragorn said, breaking the sudden tension in the room. “When I return, don’t forget your assigned position.” He let go of his chin before turning around and leaving the room.

Legolas’ insides churned in revulsion. That wasn’t his friend. He would never allow Legolas to be lowered to the position of a _bed-warmer_. It wasn’t as if it were a low position, per se, but Legolas was an accomplished warrior, and while he couldn’t exactly be considered a scholar, he had paid attention to his lessons, learned what he could. According to his home’s rules, that didn’t qualify him to that position. Why had he been subjected to do it now?

_Aragorn_.

Yes, he could only hope that by remaining close, he could find a way to bring him back.

Sadly that hope grew more and more dim with each passing day that he was stuck in this room.

With a heavy sigh Legolas stood and pushed back the covers. Night had fallen and Aragorn would take some time to return, undoubtedly, but there wasn’t anything for him to do so he might as well lay down on the bed. He knew that a servant would also come to the room to bring the candles in the sconces to life and he was in a humiliating position enough to be ogled by a servant.

Legolas unbuttoned the grey fabric and placed it on the chair that rested against the wall.

He slipped under the covers and waited.

#

It was much later that Aragorn returned to the bedroom. Legolas opened his eyes, the lighting hurting them briefly. He had been dreaming of the Greenwood, his father a sure presence by his side as caring arms enveloped him. There was song in his dream, a sense of content and happiness coming from his warm surroundings.

As he sensed Aragorn arriving, the dream shattered into a million of tiny pieces that fell around him, ripping him from the warmth into the freezing coldness that was his reality, that room.

Aragorn hadn’t said a word, deciding instead to disrobe by the chair on his side of the bed, his gaze setting on the elf every now and then.

Before long the covers were being thrown back and Aragorn was slipping inside. The silence was so taut that Legolas barely dared to breathe.

“Ah, you’re still awake, my friend.” Aragorn said out loud. He was laying on his side, looking at the elf who lay on his back. Legolas turned his head to his friend. He appraised the man, seeing someone he felt he hadn’t seen in Ages. But there was something that made him keep quiet, a sort of echo that resonated on his head, bearing his Father’s voice, cautioning him.

“You’re taking too long to reply.” Aragorn cupped Legolas’ right cheek, the touch caring and familiar. A small smile was starting to tilt the corners of the elf’s mouth but he noted the eerie depth behind Aragorn’s look. His friend hadn’t returned, after all.

“I don’t have a reason to reply.” He said in a low voice. “You were the one who put me in this position.” Legolas looked by the corner of his eye at Aragorn’s hand as it shifted, running through his hair.

“Don’t take it like that. It wasn’t the worst that could have happened…” Aragorn smirked evilly as he said this, toying with the elf’s hair, raising it and letting it cascade down his hand.

“You say that as if this were a good position!” Legolas exclaimed as he sat up, pulled back the covers and stood.

“It could be worse…” Aragorn stated lazily, stretching his hand to grab the rope and give a pull.

Legolas was yanked back, falling on the bed in a sprawl. He looked up at Aragorn, his mouth set in a straight line. “But it’s not. And you’ll understand it.” Aragorn continued as he appraised Legolas’ body. “You just have to trust me and how we will finally win the war.” He shuffled on the bed and gave another tug on the leash. “Up.” He ordered nonchalantly and waited until Legolas rose to his hands and knees. “Come here.” He patted the bed right on his side and Legolas crawled and slipped inside the bed, as Aragorn had commanded. “Now. You may perform your duty.”

Stiffly Legolas lay on his side and looked at Aragorn, uncertain.

The man also settled down under the covers and approached Legolas, throwing one arm around the elf’s waist and pressing him closer. Legolas was surrounded by the familiar, usually comforting scent of his friend, no longer hidden by the stench that came from being on the road. No, here he was clean but underneath it, Legolas got the acrid tinge that came from the ring, the metal nearly burning against his skin from where it touched him. But Aragorn didn’t pay any mind to Legolas’ stillness, he plastered his front against Legolas’ and pressed his lips against his. Legolas made a startled noise and tried to jerk away but Aragorn tightened his grip on him and plunged his tongue inside his mouth.

Legolas started pushing him back but reined himself in, he didn’t want to cause harm to his friend, after all. So he let himself go limp, becoming passive as Aragorn leaned more into him, his hands started exploring Legolas’ supple limbs.

Aragorn didn’t remain on Legolas’ mouth for long, he slid down the elf’s jaw, his beard scratching lightly against sensitive skin, until he reached the junction between jaw and neck. Then he started speaking right on Legolas’ ear, the words in Sindarin were creating turmoil inside the elf. Aragorn meant the loving words – he’d uttered them before – but at the same time it was all a lie. Legolas closed his eyes to try to regain some distance. All of this was taking quite the toll on the elf for he couldn’t believe that it wasn’t his friend who was with him. But Aragorn kept on, lips brushing against a sensitive ear before he reached the tip in which he nibbled on.

Legolas jolted, started shaking his head and pushed Aragorn back but he couldn’t get away, one of Aragorn’s hands was suddenly pressing against the collar as he sat back straddling Legolas, his eyes were cold as he pressed down, and started bearing down with his weight, cutting off Legolas’ air.

“What have I told you?” He asked in a bored tone, as his free hand slapped the elf’s hands from where they were pressing against his chest. Aragorn then placed his hand on the middle of Legolas’ chest and leaned slightly forward. The golden ring shone as the feeble light hit it. “All you have to do is to accept. Then you’ll be welcomed amongst us, as we finally reach our goal, to get free from Sauron’s shadow, for once and for all.”

“Aragorn, you can’t-“ Legolas trailed off as the pressure on his neck increased a little more, at the same time that calloused fingers ran lightly over his chest, pinched one nipple before trailing upwards, over the smooth plains of his chest before going down the lithe muscles of his arm to curl around the elf’s fingers, intertwining them.

And then, just like that, the pressure at his throat was released and that made Legolas gasp.

He blinked and made to throw the weight off his hips but Aragorn was moving, adjusting his position. He came to straddling only one of Legolas’ thighs but his knee rested against Legolas’ prick – the man seemingly took some delight in placing it on his own leg, taking his time to position it in a way more to his liking before giving it a couple of strokes. Legolas twitched but didn’t say anything.

After that, not many words were uttered. Aragorn contented himself with running his hands over Legolas’ body – seemingly absorbing any and all heat generated by the elf – with his touch becoming more firm and proprietary. Soft hairs brushed against his stomach and there was a sudden pinprick of sensation that momentarily cut through the fog but it was quickly engulfed by the fog that Legolas’ mind was creating, for Legolas was closing in on himself, detaching his mind from what was happening to his body.

After a while of focused yet absentminded exploration, Aragorn became more aware of the lack of response, of how withered the usually vibrant elf had become. A spring leaf had become an autumn leaf under his touch.

Aragorn lightened his touch, a steady stream of words coaxing the elf to him as he apologized and lay beside Legolas, pulling the covers over them.

As Legolas returned to himself, slowly, he couldn’t help but let himself feel hope. Hope for himself, hope for Aragorn and for the Fellowship – their mission might not be forfeit yet.

He let himself be positioned, Aragorn curling around him, his arm curled possessively around his waist, hand splayed out on the elf’s stomach, and one leg thrown over the elf’s legs. His hair had been pushed out of the way and Aragorn’s slowing breaths were dampening the back of Legolas’ neck, where the collar didn’t cover. His cage was set, once more.

But through it all, Legolas let himself take a breath of relief.

_Aragorn had stopped._

It had to mean that not everything was lost. It Aragorn weren’t but a shell of himself, he would have taken and taken, without a care for the broken being he might leave behind. But he _had stopped_.

Being slightly comforted by that thought, Legolas felt some of the tension ease out from his muscles. But then he noticed the sudden pinprick of pain from before. He slid his hand down to his stomach, to where the imprint of something seemed to be. Something circular that felt like a burn on his skin.

The reason for it came to him as sudden and painfully as if he’d been scalded.

The One Ring!

It had marked him.

And _that_ , right then and there, made his previous hopes crumble down and a feeling of unsettlement begin to grow in his gut.

After that, sleep took even longer to reach him than usual. Legolas remained awake while the flickering light from the candles diminished and the clouds outside started to be tinted of a lighter grey. Legolas didn’t move, his limbs remained locked in reaction to the bad feeling that spread over him.

And when he fell asleep, the dark cloud of his unsettlement continued to hover above him, tightening and shrinking, curling around his last stronghold.

This time around, not even his dreams were able to give him relief.

 


End file.
